


So What

by sharedwithyou



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angstangstangst, Angsty Schmoop, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, F/M, FEELSFEELSFEELS, Feels, Lovelies are sad, Mild Angst compared to usual, still angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharedwithyou/pseuds/sharedwithyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mildly inspired by Chasing Pavements~ Adele<br/>not related to Chasing Pavements~ me</p><p>You considered giving a little work to the knots in his shoulders, but considering his previous reaction, he probably wouldn’t appreciate it.<br/>Especially since your massages felt like “you were mushing pieces of flesh.”<br/>Tony was a dick.<br/>But at least he wasn’t a workaholic; or at least he was more of an alcoholic than a workaholic. So you took a gamble and headed to floor 3 for the bar.<br/>“Later,” you spoke as you left the brunette archer in his cursed lalaland, but he probably didn’t hear you. Since he didn’t respond.<br/>So what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So What

**Author's Note:**

> I'M NOT SORRY  
> well i am but not really  
> this is much less angsty than my last fics soooo there's that  
> there are also feels  
> FEELSFEELSFEELS  
> and not all bad so there
> 
> mildly inspired by chasing pavements by adele  
> not related to chasing pavements by me~ but it's worth a read if you haven't yet
> 
> give me some love if you liked!! hell, i need it ;)
> 
> XOXO Bucky the Mindfucker

“Can you…not?”

You waited to see if he would push your arm away from his head, but he didn’t. So you fluffed his hair once more before pulling your hand away.

“Thanks.” He rubbed his eyes against the glare of the screen, but continued staring ahead, hunched over like a munchkin.

You considered giving a little work to the knots in his shoulders, but considering his previous reaction, he probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

Especially since your massages felt like “you were mushing pieces of flesh.”

Tony was a dick.

But at least he wasn’t a workaholic; or at least he was more of an alcoholic than a workaholic. So you took a gamble and headed to floor 3 for the bar.

“Later,” you spoke as you left the brunette archer in his cursed lalaland, but he probably didn’t hear you. Since he didn’t respond.

So what.

 

“Rum and coke, please.”

“Hey, I don’t work here.”

“But you own ‘here’ so…”

“Fair enough.” Tony poured a frothy coke into a hugeass glass and topped it with some Captain Morgan. You grabbed it and took a huge gulp, trying not to wince. You didn’t like alcohol. You should’ve asked for less rum. Or no rum.

“So what seems to be the problem doll?”

“I thought you weren’t playing bartender.”

“No, I am officially, not a bartender. I do, however, love playing.” He gave you an obnoxious wink. “If you know what I mean.”

“Save it for Pepper, ‘Dr. Love.’”

He colored slightly. “I’m going to start putting rat traps in the vents (y/n).”

“Whatever.” You grinned cheekily at him before taking another swallow. “Clint would disarm them in a second.”

“When he’s done with his paperwork you mean.” He took a look at your face fall and poured some more rum into your glass. “Sorry.”

“It’s whatever.” So he was an Agent. So he had way too much time on his hands when he wasn’t on missions. So he spent all that extra time working on future assignments. So what.

“Are you guys even together?”

“Beats me.” Together implied that you had to spend time, you know, together right? So he brought you a snowglobe from Paris two months ago. So you made out that one time under the mistletoe Tony put up in the middle of September. So you were the first person he asked about when he came back.

So what?

“Well you might want to figure it out.”

“Oh? And why would that be?”

“A little birdy told me you have a secret admirer.”

You snorted. “Is that the best you can do?”

“With what?”

“Little birdy?”

“Oh.” He chuckled and poured himself another scotch. “No I wasn’t talking about Barton.”

“Really?” That was interesting. You took the flask of Morgan and poured some more into your dwindling coke. It was starting to taste better.

“Yeah.” He wiggled his eyebrows over his mug, willing you to beg him to tell. He was a jerk.

What was new.

“Is it that new IT guy? He said my desktop was in perfect order.”

“Nerd.” You reached over to pinch him, but he scooted his arm away easily.

“How about the nurse from last week? She said I was the perfect temperature.”

“You’re not even trying.”

“I know.” You didn’t feel like giving Tony the satisfaction of dangling the information in front of you. You also didn’t feel well. This is why you never drank. You had no tolerance.

“Dude. You look pukey.”

“You put too much rum.”

“I saw you topping yourself off earlier.”

“Tattletale.”

“Wh- that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Your butt doesn’t make sense.”

“I know. It’s just too good. I call it fine-ass-city.”

“…” You looked for a comeback but your brain was feeling swirly. Not that your butt doesn’t make sense was a good one either.

 

“(y/n)? Are you coming to bed?”

You turned your head to see Clint with his still-ruffled hair standing at a distance, his feet shoulder-width apart in his usual combative stance. He just could not turn off the assassin could he?

“Yeah (y/n), make his night,” Tony crowed at you, but you were too tired all of a sudden to take a swipe at him.

“Uhm… I think I’ll chill with the asshole for a bit longer.” You blinked hard, trying to keep the world from getting fuzzy.

“…” He was watching you and you hated it. Like he was judging you, or at least sizing you up; and for what exactly? To see if you were too drunk for sex? Or if you would throw up on him? Or wake up with a hangover and annoy him?

So what?

“You haven’t been drinking on an empty stomach, have you?”

Oh. No wonder you were feeling nauseous. Nauseated? You had spent the evening curled up beside him on your phone, and keeping him company, or bugging him, that you hadn’t eaten yet.

“I’ll have a sandwich a bit.” You gave Tony the evil eye so he wouldn’t make a “make me a sandwich” joke.

“Right.” He stood there a second longer, looking less like a schoolteacher and more like an awkward teenager. Not sure if he should say anything else or do something or leave. Maybe he just seemed more like a normal human being. Whatever.

“I’ll go make you a ham sammich!” Tony was annoying as usual, but at least he had an ounce of sense to give you guys a minute.

You took another sip of your mostly rum, and watched Clint’s eyebrows knit together slightly. Figures. You were already feeling ill, and you were still drinking. Well, so what.

“Goodnight then,” he said finally, before turning and walking out.

You thought about leaving it like that, the silent treatment, pretending you were too busy or at least too preoccupied with yourself to answer.

But you didn’t want to be passive-aggressive, the way some people under pressure in a world like this became, so you bit your lip and answered.

“Night, Clint.”

 

“What the fuck? I gave you an opening to go and have your way with him?!”

Tony had made his way back sandwich-less and more annoying than ever.

“I feel sick.”

“Yeah. And nothing makes you feel better than getting it on. Have you learned nothing from Dr. Love?!”

You pressed your fingers to your temples in frustration and agony. “Where’s my sandwich.” You spoke in a monotone.

“What am I, your wife?”

“If I marry you, will you get me some goddam bread with filling?”

“Sheesh. Fine. You’re no fun drunk.” Tony huffed, before pulling a mashed pb and j from his pocket. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Pepper made it for me. Apparently when she’s mad, I don’t get warm food.”

“Not like she cooked in the first place.”

“Yeah well at least she’d order take-out. You know since I’d forget about eating being busy saving the world and all.”

“Or making a metal arm to give you handy j’s.”

“HEY!” He snatched the sandwich from you mid-bite. “That was classified!”

“Should’ve told your mouth.” You pulled the sandwich back and shoveled it down your throat, feeling like cardboard.

“And you should watch yours.” He glowered at you for a second, before the two of you burst into laughter, remembering you screaming in horror and Jarvis pulling up a solid-colored screen to cover Tony’s…indiscretion.

You choked down the rest of the sandwich before joking, “It was impressive at least.”

“I’ll say. Twenty seven speeds and comfort grips-“

“Oh God!!”

“You brought it up sweetie,” Iron Pervert smiled cheekily.

“I wasn’t talking about Iron Palm…”

“Oh,” he blurted, stunned. That was the fun thing about Tony. Turn him down and beat his ego over and over; so what? He’d keep a(n arrogant) chin up the whole time. Better yet, when you actually threw him a bone, he’d still be surprised.

You pushed yourself away from the bar, feeling the twisting in your stomach subside. Hawk was right about that, anyway. “So, tell me more about this secret admirer.”

“Well, for starters, he’s well-endowed,” Tony quipped with a smirk.

“Mhm,” you murmured dryly as you walked slowly towards him, making sure your steps were steady.

“And he’s dashingly handsome.”

“And he just made me a sandwich and lied about his girlfriend right?”

“What do you mean, lied?”

“Tony. You and Pepper broke up a month ago. She broke a window, remember?”

“Shit.” He had forgotten about that; had the repairman not fixed that yet?! “Did that give it away?”

“Nah. You hit the bottle pretty hard for two weeks. Everyone figured.”

“Damn. I figured you guys couldn’t tell the difference.”

“Yeah, if we didn’t live with you we probably would have assumed you were going about your usual boozing.” He turned from you, a bitter smile on his face.

“Plus there was the Merlot.”

“Too girly for me?”

“Definitely.” You put your hand on his cheek and turned his face back to you. “I mean, for a nerd, you can be a man’s man.”

He grinned, with hurt lingering in his eyes, and you pulled his bar stool to you so you could stand between his knees. “I don’t know, the whole secret admirer bit was pretty dorky.”

“It’s hard to think when you’re horny.”

“In that case, it’s a miracle I manage to get through the day.”

“I’ll say.” Your hands were on his shoulders now, and he put his on your waist. “So what gave me away?”

“Your face.”

“That’s your comeback for everything, (y/n).”

“Yeah, well it’s true.” You began pressing your palms against his back, and for once he didn’t make the “mushing” comment.

“You better not say I’m an easy read.”

“Well you’re no Natasha Romanov.”

“Ditto.” You pushed him, but he held onto you with his callused hands. Apparently working with metal was another way to get those.

 

He pressed his forehead against your chin now, and you closed your eyes for second, taking in his musk and sweat and scotch.

“I used to see it on Clint.”

He didn’t speak, but pulled you all the way in, his chest against yours.

He knew.

 

You pressed your lips to his temple, as he tipped his head back to look you in the eye.

“No kisses on the mouth.”

“What is this, Pretty Woman?”

“If you think you’re getting paid-“

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

And that was enough talking.

 

His face was buried in your neck, and you sat down on his lap, your legs around him, and you let yourself go.

 

You felt yourself falling inside, long before you hit the floor.

“ **OW**! What the fuck, Tony?!”

“These stools aren’t meant for this-“

“You asshole!”

“Maybe if you lost some weight-“

 

**“What the fuck is going on.”**

The two of you turned to see Clint, in a t-shirt and shorts, absolutely livid.

“Oh, hey buddy-“ The rest of Tony’s words were muffled as Clint shoved him off you and picked him up by the collar.

“Are you trying to fuck my girl?!”

Tony pried at his strong fingers, before wheezing, “Oh so she’s your girl now?”

“Clint! Stop!” You stumbled up, ignoring the huge splinter in your calf, and pushed him away.

“What the hell are you doing (y/n)?!”

“What are **you** doing, Clint?!” You pulled at his arms with all your strength but he wouldn’t let Tony go.

“I came down to see if you’re okay and I see this bastard on top of you?!”

Unable to get him away, you kick him hard in the shin, before gasping at the sharp pain in your leg.

“Wha-“ Clint looks down at your calf, and quickly drops Tony, who hits the floor, trying to catch his wind.

“Thanks,” he wheezes, but Clint ignores him and grabs the closest bottle, ripping a strip of cloth off his shirt to stem the bleeding.

Maybe he really didn’t hear him.

But so what?

 

“It’s fine, really.” You hiss in pain as you pull the chunk of wood out, blinking hard.

Across the floor, Tony is lying akimbo, drama queen as usual.

“(Y/n),” Clint murmurs, pouring vodka onto the shirt and dabbing it against the wound.

“I’m fine too,” Tony calls, rolling over when no one responds.

“Great,” you groan, pulling the fabric from Clint’s hand and pressing it down on your leg, hard. “MotherFU-“

Clint grabs a napkin from the table for you to bite down on.

Tony sits up, shaking his head hard, before reaching into a nearby cupboard. “Here.”

“The fuck is she going to do with a Hershey’s Stark?!”

“Have her bite down on it, Spazz.”

You smile gratefully at the billionaire, before ripping the chocolate open with your teeth and putting it in your mouth. The milky sweetness helps ebb the pain slightly.

“Go get her some real antiseptic from the bathroom Stark.”

“I would, Barton, but I’m out of breath from you nearly choking me to death.”

“You’re out of breath because your fucking chair broke and nearly impaled (y/n).”

You roll your eyes and tie the makeshift bandage around your leg tightly. “I’ll get it myself, thanks.”

You move away to stand up, but Clint puts his arms around you to help you. “(Y/n)-,”

“I’m okay,” You repeat, but he doesn’t let go.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

 

And he looks real sorry, and it feels good to finally have his arms around you, and you’re feeling too woozy to stand on your own.

 

But,

So,

What.

 

Because it’s not okay.

 

“I didn’t realize both of you had fallen.” Clearly he didn’t realize a lot of other things either.

 

“Yeah, we did,” you reply, but there’s something in your eyes that makes him unsure, something that all those hours of interrogation and information and learning to get inside the enemy’s head couldn’t help, couldn’t fix, couldn’t trade back.

“But even if we hadn’t,”

“Even if we were really fucking when you walked in,”

And his eyes widened but it was too late, because out of the corner of them he saw Tony’s look of sympathy, of sorrow. He knew.

 

“So what, Clint?”

 

So, what?

**Author's Note:**

> WAHHHHH
> 
> leave me a comment if you liked! 
> 
> random ramblings:  
> i wish i could take credit for the 'perfect temperature joke' but it was gene from Bog Burgers, my favorite show of all time  
> quick poll 1: Clint or Tony???? BASED ON THIS STORY  
> i might do a sequel, because it's kind of mean how i ended this one; but it makes sense given, well, the whole fic  
> but still i understand if it made you sad
> 
> yay for rebounds! i don't actually do rebounds in real life, but i think they are fun to write. especially since in real life rebounds are not fun. so they are best explored in fiction. 
> 
> You felt yourself falling inside, long before you hit the floor. "OW!" ~ mini mindfuck slipped in there ;) i meant it figuratively and literally  
> and i meant that you felt yourself falling (in the emotional way), before you and tony actually fell off the stool
> 
> “Uhm… I think I’ll chill with the asshole for a bit longer.” You blinked hard, trying to keep the world from getting fuzzy.~ hehe ambiguity. it's supposed to sound like it's because lovely's getting tipsy, but it's more because she's trying not to cry. *sniff*
> 
> also queen of blueballs here; my fics never get smutty because i'm a terrible person ;) also because i think it's funner to write insinuations (AND TEASING)  
> and probably if i wrote lemon/sexy stuff it would turn out hilarious instead
> 
> quick poll 2: which part gave you the most feels?!
> 
> Clint realizes tony's on top of you because the two of you broke the chair, but not that you guys were being naughty while on the chair  
> in the end, it doesn't matter; because he had been mad about the two of you anyway (even though it was at the wrong time) and because it's over. so what.
> 
> WAHHHHH
> 
> that's all this time lovelies!! give me some love below!  
> XOXO Bucky the Lovely


End file.
